


Luminescence

by Perafrost



Category: Original Work
Genre: Animate and Inanimate Objects, California, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hotels, Humboldt County, Pandora - Freeform, netflix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:38:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perafrost/pseuds/Perafrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A "Romeo & Juliet" story. Well, more of a 'kind of'. Nah, more of a modern twist. </p><p>   Scratch that. This is nothing like "Romeo & Juliet". It's about a lightbulb falling in love with a frickin' candle. There is probably some mushy stuff, but hey, at least there aren't any dick jokes or awful pickup lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Far, So Good

It is dark.

Then, an unholy white appears. Now it dims down to a soft golden yellow. This is I, every morning in my world, constantly trying to fix my light to appear well. I’m also a light bulb.

I am capable of many things, unlike the other Bulbs:

1.) My light can be dimmed to any level. I don’t have the two-option choice of “Light ON” or “Light OFF”.  
2.) My brand is Cree, the only brand name that is different in the entire hotel that I live in. Every other bulb is a Rayovac.  
3.) I’m often interested of human nature.  
4.) I’m not like any of the sociopaths here: neither like the Bulbs, nor like the owner of this hotel.

I reside in Room 509, the same room the co-owner lives in. He’s the younger brother of the real owner of the hotel. This hotel could’ve been named something catchier, but I guess the name “Hesire” was a better choice of a name at the time of the Fifties. Anyhow, only me, the co-owner (Who’s name is Dave), and an arrangement of candles that exist in the kitchen are the ones who live in 509. 

I’ve never talked to the candles. It’s not my fault, it’s Dave’s fault. I’m placed in the sidewall that is parallel to this beautiful TV. God would never let a better creature than that TV to rule the living rooms. This TV is also the reason why I almost never leave; I’m just too attached to that damn thing. Even if I do leave, I won’t go directly to speak to the Candles. I’d go off and explore the different rooms using the RTS (Rodent Transportation System). 

I’m an orphan; a single packaged bulb. I came to the world like this, as soon as the first spark of life reached me: alone. I tried getting along with the Rayovacs but it deemed useless to be friends with such assholes. I simply walk around and think,  
“Why was I made into a Bulb?”  
“Am I here because of a purpose I have to fulfill?”  
“Is there such thing as being a purpose to others?”

There is only one response to what my purpose is in life:  
“No one cares, just do what you were built to do, suck it up, and move along.”

I would later realize how wrong I was.


	2. Shaken

It’s 1:00 PM. Dave is out doing business work or something. I’m sort of alone. 

I hear a faint rumbling. Then I start feeling it. “It’s that time of the year again…” I think out loud. It’s a damned earthquake.

Everything in the room is only slightly moved from the shaking. That is, except for me. I fell off of my outlet and landed on the couch. Couches are supposed to be comfy and soft, but this one happens to be as hard as the floor. I honestly thought that I broke something in my body again. If you wanted to know, I can’t make a full fist with my right hand because of a past earthquake that made me land directly to the floor. 

I check every part of me by moving them.

“Left hand, good. Right hand, not good, but wasn’t good in the first place. Light Dimmer, functional. Mouth, still talking to myself. Facial expressions, work perfectly. Spine, I can still stand. Legs, a little sore. Feet, surprisingly still good. My cube lamp is still nailed to the wall. TV, still there on the other wall, thank God.”

What did I hurt badly? Oh, right. My ass hurts from falling. I might not be able to sit down for a while.

The Hesire Hotel resides in Humboldt County, California. It’s natural for tiny earthquakes to happen time to time here. This isn’t much of the Hotel’s problem, however. The real problem is that there are too many competitors out there, and they slow down the profit this hotel makes. I know most of the stuff that goes on with Hesire. Those are the perks of living with the co-owner. Dave and the Boss always argue about what to do with the Hotel. It’s usually either planning to renovate the place or to just sell the land on it to another person. Arguments would always be solved when the Boss’s wife would interfere with these arguments and practically drag him to his house. Unlike Dave, the Boss has his own separate house several miles away.

As I was standing on the couch thinking about how I could possibly get up to my outlet/cubed lamp again, I see something peculiar in the distance. I climbed down from the couch to get a better look. It’s been a while since I’ve walked on the floor. Sure, it’s only been a week, but things can happen to a floor when a week goes by. In this case, it would be Dave’s bad habit of not sweeping the room once in a while.

I found the TV remote Dave was looking for the night before. I dragged it, and placed it right next to the foot of the couch. I secretly maintain the room, but I struggle trying to do so without Dave noticing. I don’t want him to think he’s going insane, but I also don’t want him to realize what some appliances are capable of.

I arrived at my proper destination. However, it’s not a pretty sight. There’s a Candle, about my age, weeping at the site of a book on the floor. As I walk closer, I realize that the book had fallen on a Candle that fell off the kitchen counter. She’s split in half all except for her spine, but still has the willpower to bid a final farewell to her son.

She dies, in the hands of her teenaged son.

I want to console the heartbroken candle. But something holds me back. I don’t want to possibly hurt him even more. I attempted to leave the scene and go back to my wall lamp.

Oh, fuck. The rumbling is back again. Humans call this phenomena “aftershock”. 

I certainly was shaking a lot and I was also trying to find a safe place, but I saw how the teenaged candle wasn’t moving. A painting with a wooden frame right above him was getting loose. “If I don’t do anything, that damn thing will crush him!”, I thought. 

I wouldn’t allow him to have the same fate as his mother. 

I sprinted towards him. The nails that held the painting have fallen off.


	3. Questions

The frame shattered to pieces when it hit the ground.

I caught him off guard. I couldn’t believe it. He was well aware of being right under the frame, but he wasn’t budging. He was going to commit suicide.

That’s why I pushed him out of harm’s way.

I thought I was going to injure myself while doing this. I’m slim, and I can climb up to different places in the apartment, but I’m not the hardcore athletic type. 

“There’s something about you… I think I’ve seen you before…” I think aloud. I thought he was going to respond, but then I realize that I accidentally knocked him out unconscious. Crap. There’s no way that I’m carrying him up to the kitchen counter. I put his arm around my shoulders as I planned to carry him to the corner, at the very least due to my strength. This is obviously the case, as he fell right on top of me with ease. Christ. 

I made it to the corner, and I placed him in a sort of seated position. He’s actually kind of cute, in a way. That compliment is literally coming from me, a semi-sociopath who usually thinks for herself most of the time. Either way, I wish he’d be awake.

“Uungh…” The guy attempts to speak, but clearly talks like a drunken buzzard. I can’t blame him, I mean, it’s not everyday that a girl would knock him out cold. “Shh, it’ll be alright. I’m here. Whoever you are.” 

I see the rest of the Candles attempting to climb down and help up whoever fell down. Sadly, I knew that only he would head back up to the counter. I back away, out of fear. I don’t want to cause a disturbance, nor wanted to get insulted. Nowadays, I can’t trust anyone. Everyone’s mean, even the nice people are. 

Before I scaled the couch, I took one last glance at the guy I knocked down. He’s alive, I thought. Thank God. 

At that same moment, he looks at me and gives me a half-smile. I give him one too, and then I departed to my cube lamp. 

Until now, I realize that Candles are nothing like the Rayovacs. They laugh. They mourn. They question. They think. And most importantly, they love.

As I’m thinking about everything that happened today, I wonder if it’s still a good day. I feel guilt over the death of the young Candle’s mother, but I felt happiness over stopping a possible suicide. Hopefully, he’ll come back to his senses. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. I wonder if he’ll think about me, about whom I am and if I’ll ever come back. When Dave’s gone doing business trips, I should go down and visit him.

Whoever he is.


	4. Moderate Equanimity

Dave came home once the clock hit 3 o’clock. He didn’t notice much change in the room, other than the TV remote and the dead candle. He picked up the candle, and instead of throwing her to the trashcan, he put her in some box, labeled ‘Crafting supplies’. I haven’t an idea of what that is, but I hope it's for the best. 

He had a suitcase with him, and began to open it. He sloppily took out the mess of documents out of it. I couldn’t process all of the numbers and stuff, although I could tell that the hotel was barely making a profit. Dave started muttering to himself, about his future with Hesire Hotel. “Goddamn it… budget is too damn low, Boss knows that… he’s crazy, hogging up the damn money we need for this place…” It’s kind of funny to see him in a stressed out manner, for a calm guy like him. 

This entire time that he is here, he doesn’t bother to turn the light on (Which in this case, it’s me). He rarely turns on the light. I think he despises it, I mean, it would explain his rather pale skin and hair color. But then again, how would that explain a light dimmer and several candles inside of his home?

I’m guessing that he gave up with the world after that. Not with suicide, but with Netflix. 

He’s been starting to watch a new series called “The Walking Dead”, and I can’t lie, the show is amazing. The storyline, the acting, the walkers, the everything! It’s a zombie soap opera, if you want to get close into detail. Drama, shocking revelations, more drama, zombies, death, amazing zombie kill, suspense, then cliffhanger until next episode. That’s how every episode is made up, but it’s a hundred times better when you actually watch it. 

I’m probably their only light bulb fan.

Sooner or later, the clock shifted to 6 o’ clock. Thankfully, Netflix stopped working so we could realize what was going on in the real world. After watching that show for some time, I’ve never come to think about all of the walkers. Their past lives, before and after the apocalypse. How their unlikely demise took place. Most importantly, what their names were.

That realization brought up another realization: I don’t have a name.

Out of all that time… after a whole two years of living… I never gave myself a name. I know everything about myself. Gender. Age. Appropriate voltage needed. Hair color. Sexual orientation. Eye color. Weight. Height. I know all of that, except for my name. 

For the sake of everyone that wants to know who I am: I'm calling myself Beth, Beth Cree 

Dave comes back from the kitchen. I didn’t realize he left. I must’ve been too intrigued by my own thoughts. He has a bowl and a box of cereal in his hands. He proceeds to eating the whole damn thing. He’s surprisingly not fat yet. I decide to take a nap, just for the hell of it. 

I woke up at 8 o’ clock to the sound of the Arctic Monkeys playing on Pandora. As usual, Dave needed music to sleep off from a hard day. He’s drooling on the couch, the one I fell on earlier this morning. I haven’t an idea as to how he’s even able to sleep on that piece of crap. Well, that’s his problem. 

I’m going to try to see if I can pull an all-nighter. This could be a good chance fro me to visit the lower floors again. It’s been a while. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet new people again.

I wonder when that candle will accompany me on my mischievous adventures. I’m getting too ahead of myself. I lack the guts to go up and talk to him.

Today, I discovered who I am. Today, I discovered that there’s a whole new definition to what everyone’s purpose is. Today was possibly the best and worst day of my life.

Hell, stuff like this needs a celebration. I mean, today is like a sign and all. Think about it: Two weeks and not a single out-of-the-ordinary event, and all of a sudden, the goddamn earthquakes happen. To me, earthquakes always seem to shake up more than just the room. 

I should get some pen ink, you know? I use it as paint, and boy, I’ve become quite the artist. Everyone has a hobby, right? I kind of had to find a hobby, mainly because I go crazy being alone at home and all. Lucky me, the RTS’s most common entrance/exit is the storage office (Which as its namesake, holds all of the office supplies in where I get the artsy stuff.)

Of course, I realize that my eyes will slam shut out of need, not because I want to.

I don’t mean to be lazy, but I’m heading off tomorrow. Frankly, I’m tired, even for a light bulb. My hands feel surprisingly cold. My ass still hurts. My adrenaline is still flowing through my veins like the wind on a hot summer day. Apart from that, my eyes are heavy from what I’ve seen.


End file.
